Whisper
May 12, 2016 20:00:06 GMT -5
Post by styg on May 12, 2016 20:00:06 GMT -5
"No, you know, I..."
She paused for just a second to check her breathing and collect her thoughts. She knew her tendency to get flustered and stumble on her words.
"It's a big way to come back, I get that. Especially si..uh." She'd been about to say, "Especially since I missed Gold Rush." But one of the attitude changes she'd been attempting to make in her life was to frame things positively. They're not obstacles, they're opportunities! That sort of thing. That kind of carpe diem "dream as though you'll live forever, live as though you'll die tomorrow" attitude was something she'd always dismissed as being for posh, smug people, people who had au pairs and who ordered the kinds of kitchen gadgets the chunky mail order catalogues described as "handsome" or "indispensable" that she couldn't even understand the use of, and people with their shit just generally more together than her. It was hard - she had to correct herself constantly - but if that kind of thinking was what the people with their shit together did, and she wanted to have her shit together, then she ought to think like that too.
Right?
Leanne cleared her throat and tried again.
"Dynamic Duos is a big tournament. In terms of hype and, like, outside eyes on the company an' that, it's probably the biggest annual event FGA runs. One of the biggest cross-promotional things anyone runs. Even if I'm not looking to go back into the tag division full time, this is good way to hopefully remind people of who I am." The sense of positivity she was fighting herself to cultivate nudged her, and she added with only the slightest hint of embarrassment, "What I can do."
John wasn't a wrestling fan, and he knew little about the sport outside of what Leanne brought up every week, but from the corner of her eye she saw him nod understandingly. He was a total lifesaver. Being able to spill out her thoughts like this to someone detached and sympathetic, in this relaxed but professional atmosphere, helped her get a handle on how she felt about her feelings herself.
"And show that you're not the same person you were this time last year?"
Leanne smiled. "Exactly. Exactly that, John. Thanks."
It felt strange to call him by his first name; she was paying him after all, and she felt like that conferred some kind of authority onto him. Jay had told her that was crazy - if anything, he'd argued, the fact she was paying gave her the position of authority over him - but she just couldn't reconcile herself to that idea yet. He felt too much like a teacher.
It had taken a long, long time to take this step, and it was scary as hell. She'd had to take Matty with her when she went to register for the sessions just to stop her from freaking out or getting cold feet and leaving again as soon as she set foot through the door. She'd forced herself though, and this was the upshot: a weekly measure of her progress in tangible terms. If she could take that step, she could take the subsequent ones. She'd proven to herself that she really could make the life changes she needed to make, and with them, slowly but surely, were coming the changes in outlook too.
"Will your boyfriend be there?"
"I hope so," she murmured, "I mean, he wrestles in Japan a lot these days, and this thing's in the USA. But I really hope he can be there. Especially for the final, if Laurel and I can make that. It would make it so special for him to be there at ringside." She glanced around. "I mean... even something like this, right now. I wouldn't even be sitting here with you it wasn't for Smurf."
He didn't ask about the unusual name. In one of their first sessions together, he'd asked her what Kickass Smurf's real name was, and she'd been firm that she neither could nor would tell him. Even that felt like progress to her; she felt pleased with herself that she'd been able to recognise when it was appropriate to say "no" to someone she perceived as an authority figure. She hadn't betrayed her boyfriend's confidence, and she wasn't agonising over the decision. It was exactly the kind of situation which would have frozen the old Leanne Evangelista, and she'd managed to deal with it fairly easily.
"Well," chuckled John, "I'm glad he encouraged you to do this."
Leanne blushed. "He didn't. I just... want to be... he makes me want to be a better person, you know? Does that sound stupid? I bet that sounds stupid."
"Not at all. You should see what I was like before I met my wife."
With a laugh, Leanne asked, "Oh yeah? How come?"
"I'll tell you... but later. For now you're going to tackle the box junction at the bottom of Station Road."
"What? I'm not ready!" exclaimed Leanne, almost slamming on the brakes. If the street they were on had been quieter she might have done just that.
"How many weeks have you been saying that for?"
She slapped one palm against the steering wheel in agitation. "I know, I know, but it's so busy... we're just about comin' up to the start of rush hour... what if I stall when I'm halfway across?"
John cleared his throat. "Leanne... are you serious about learning to drive?"
She turned sideways to stare at him for just a moment. Of course she was serious; learning to drive was something she should have done years ago. If she could so this, she'd be independent in a whole new way. No more relying on Jay or taxis to ferry her everywhere. And yet... the Station Road junction was such a massive step. Yes, she wanted to push herself. Yes, she wanted to be able to leave her comfort zone. But something that scary...
She pictured Kickass.
Dammit.
"...yes," she said, trepidatiously but firmly, "Yes. I'm serious. Fuck it. Let's do it."
------------------------------------
The soles of her feet, sticky with blood and dirt and ice cream, curled around the top rope like talons as she hunkered down.
The images in her eyes blurred and flickered like worn filmstrip but she could still clearly enough see Whisper tugging desperately at the barbed wire. Between his shredded hands and all the blood he'd lost and the awkward angle he was at, The Architect was having trouble pulling his leg free from the twisted length of guardrail she'd lashed it to. His body was mottled with bruises and streaked with blood; the makeshift bandage on his hand was only half-on by this point, and a glint told her he still had some glass lodged in his palm. On an intellectual level she was aware her injuries were almost as bad as his, and she knew she'd pay the price for all of this soon enough, but she couldn't feel them. The crimson mask she was wearing was pure energy, pulsing and radiating in totemic battle spirit.
Her gaze flicked past Whisper to his manager for the evening, who was trying to surface from the murky ocean of unconsciousness. His hands scrabbled for the ropes as he pushed his shoulderblades back against the bottom turnbuckle pad. The contractions of his chest were irregular. So was the blinking of his eyelids. Maybe that sheerdrop powerbomb lungblower she'd given him would make him think twice about interfering in her business again - for a couple of shows at least, if she should be so lucky.
Richard. Fucking. Maxwell. Was he the architect of all this? Of the beatdowns, of the mind games, of the war on XWA's very existence waged by the mysterious "Survivors" and vanguarded by Alice Harris's Catastrophe? Surely not. Maxwell was a snake, not a lion. Whatever the bigger picture here was, he was a lieutenant, a public face for a more diabolical manipulator with grander designs than chaos or closure. But he could still limp back to the Survivors' bunker with a message. And that was more than Whisper would be able to do.
Her eyes swung back to the inhuman machine known as The Architect of All War. The Rebus Hivemind. The man who'd ended more careers than anyone in XWA Battlezone history. The man who'd terrorised XWA's wrestlers, staff and fans more than anyone else in the company's 16-plus years.
They wanted war?
They'd get their goddamn war.
She did the only thing that felt appropriate under the circumstances: she blew Maxwell a kiss. And then she jumped.
The soles of her feet, sticky with blood and dirt and ice cream, sank into the warming geyser that erupted from around Whisper's patella as her heels drove it through the ligaments of his knee. For a fanciful moment, she felt his strength - his renowned sadism, his overwhelming rage that betrayed his name - soak through her skin and into her own bloodstream.
The sound of bone snapping rang in her ears as a gunshot.
There. They had their goddamn war.
--------------------------
Laurel grunted impatiently as she stabbed the touchpad on her laptop again and again.
"C'mon, you bastard, load."
Laurel Yunokawa - a.k.a Laurel Guerra, a.k.a. Saiko Yunokawa, a.k.a. Saikosoma, a.k.a Laurel Anne Hardy - was still not the strongest reader, despite the fact she'd learn to read English properly a whole seven years ago. Before that she'd just had odd words - storefronts, street signs, the kind of thing you pick up as a stranger in a strange land. She'd grown up an alien in her own country with no need to interact with the written word. Only upon trying to sign with a real wrestling school had she realised that reading and writing did actually matter when it came to existing as a real person in the real world. And so - despite not being particularly great at English herself, as evidenced by the C she got at GCSE - Leanne had taught her. It had been slow and there had been many arguments but they gradually got there, and nowadays Laurel could proudly call herself literate - even if she still had to trace her finger under words and read them aloud sometimes.
Laurel refreshed again, and there at last was the update.
She slowly read the clickbait headline over and over.
Top XWA wrestler's injury career threatening?
She closed her eyes for a moment, then blinked and clicked through. Laurel scanned her eyes up and down the page, picking out words and clauses to get a general impression of the news story.
...suffered by Whisper, the leader of the faction Whisper's War, at the climax of XWA's recent "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" event between himself and former Supreme XWA Champion Laurel Anne Hardy.
...confirm that the move not only dislocated his kneecap but tore tendons and muscle...
...fractures...
...backstage sources...
...current feeling among XWA's medical officials...
...Whisper is unlikely to ever wrestle again. A source within the company adds that there is a strong chance he may even be unable to ever walk again.
She rubbed her chin as she scanned the dirtsheet article over and over, until she was positive she understood it all correctly. Then she sank back against the couch, trying to work out what - if anything - she felt about all this.
"You alright?"
She looked over at her brother, who had a pair of his ring shorts spread out on the coffee table and was painting a Welsh flag on the leg. "Hm?"
"You made a weird noise."
"Really?" This was news to her.
"Yeah. Like... kind of angry, but kinda worried."
"Oh."
Matty set down his brush. "Bad news?" he asked, pointing to the computer.
She shoved it to the other end of the sofa. "Not for me."
"Cryptic."
"Eh," she sighed. She saw what he was trying to do. God, he was so transparent. But... weird as it would be for her to tell him as much... she was grateful for his concern. "Just the thing with Whisper."
"Obviously," he replied, deadpan. "How you feelin' about it now? I mean... I know you kinda didn't like how much everyone on Twitter was askin' if you were alright, but..."
"Noooo," cut in Laurel emphatically, "It ain't like I'm mad at them for worryin' about me. Just, y'know, Whisper's prolly got his career ended now, an' everyone's checkin' on me instead of him like I'm, like I'm..." She paused, trying to find the words.
"Like you're the victim?" suggested Matty.
Laurel scowled momentarily as she let out a "Hah. No... like they're worried I'm about to flip. Like I'm gonna go all... Saikosoma."
"I guess it just shows how hated Whisper was," said Matty, "That even when you snap his leg nobody feels any sympathy for him."
"Maybe? I dunno. I feel like everyone's watching me though."
"Laurel," said Matty evenly, "You knew full well when you broke a guy's leg live on camera you'd get people watching you. Since when have you not loved everyone watching you, anyway?"
Laurel shook her head. "Not that kinda watching. Watching like... they expect me to escalate it. All the nervous jokes. People thinkin' this one match means that part of me is gonna be the full time me goin' forward." She grimaced. "Is that what I am?"
Matty was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "Would you still do it if you could go back in time?"
His half-sister took some time over her own reply, but after a few seconds she simply said, "Does it matter? It happened. It is what it is."
"So you don't know how you feel about it?"
Laurel lay down across the arm of the couch, staring into space. "I don't feel anything about it. If anything bothers me, it's that. Or at least the expectation that I should feel something. Right now I've got no more feelings about Whisper than I have about, I don't know, the neighbour's car," she said, gesturing out the window, then pointed across the room and said, "Or that lamp. Though actually," she added after a pause, "I have quite strong feelings about that lamp. Doesn't fuckin' work there for a start, not against the plain wallpaper. But you know what I mean though? Maybe I'll feel different about it in time but right now this whole thing with Whisper doesn't mean anything more to me than what I had for tea last night, or fuck it, the dump I took this morning."
"I think technically last night's tea an' this morning's dump are the same thing..."
"Kay, fair point. Bad analogy."
The Guerra siblings both feel silent for a moment, she trying to find a suitable comparison to clarify what she meant and he working out how to phrase asking whether she honestly expected Whisper's allies - Richard J. Maxwell, Alice Harris et al - to take Laurel shelving him lying down. But the sound of the front door interrupted their respective trains of thought, and a voice called through, "Hello?"
"Hey! We're in here."
"Who's we?" asked Leanne's voice, and a moment later, she appeared around the door to the hall, still wearing her coat despite the bright sunshine outside. She nodded as she took in the living room's two occupants.
"I think Lily's asleep," Matty informed her, "Everyone else is out."
"Fair enough," replied Leanne as she shrugged her jacket off and tossed it over the back of an armchair. As she sat down, she asked brightly, "Guess who drove the junction at the bottom of Station Road for the first time today?"
"Oh, that's great! Well done," exclaimed Matty.
"Yeah, way to go, babe," chipped in Laurel, "Proud of you."
"How many accidents you cause?"
"Not many. Just a couple of pile-ups." Leanne's fingers clenched and unclenched. "God, I'm wired now. I wanna do something. Hey," she nodded in Laurel's direction, "What you doin' this afternoon, Ell? We should go get some more trainin' in for our big Vertigo comeback."
Tsking, Matty chided, "Don't you overdo it. You don't wanna miss a second event."
Leanne nodded and conceded, "I know, I know... trust me, with how much it hurt not to be able to be in Gold Rush, especially seein' those two assholes win it... I ain't gonna let that happen here. I just got to burn off some energy is all," she said, looking over meaningfully in her tag team partner's direction.
"Uuuh," groaned Laurel, rolling upright, "I could train. Just... lemme get some painkillers in me first."
Leanne sucked in her cheeks. "Are you still really hurt?"
"I'll be fine."[/color]
But Leanne squinted at her nervously. "You can't blame me for being concerned. You got stapled in the face, Ell..."
Laurel glanced to Matty for a second before replying with, "Well? Not like they're still in there, are they?"
Leanne shook her head. "I know, just... I know better than anyone now what happens when you try to rush back after getting hurt. I don't want you to throw yourself into things until you're ready again."
Laurel sat up and planted a foot on the carpet. "No. This is too important. Dynamic Duos is too important. Anyway, listen, I'll be fine by Saturday."[/color]
"Okay but just... don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."
"I know. Thanks, Ell."[/color]
"Especially since you were the one pushing so hard for us to enter this together in the first place."
"I know. I'm fine. I'll be fine,"[/color] repeated Laurel, and her tone made it clear that she knew that she was protesting too much.
With a slight smirk, Leanne suddenly stretched across the table and flicked the band-aid stuck to Laurel's forehead. Laurel yelped out an "AAH!" as she flapped her arms to bat Leanne's hand away.
"So it doesn't hurt, huh?" deadpanned Leanne.
"No," replied Laurel testily, "It doesn't hurt, it's just annoying as shit."
Leanne folded her arms as she sat back. "Remember what I said. I want you to prove me wrong about this bein' a bad idea."
"It's not,"[/color] insisted Laurel, "We've still got it. I promise. This is our year. An' I will come train this afternoon. See how good all the old moves've been when we've been training? They're gonna get even better. Dragons two point oh."[/color]
Leanne nodded as she took in Laurel's assertions, then slowly asked, "Have you seen our opponents? Sara Mason and Erin... whatever the hell her last name is?"
"Wha'bout 'em?"[/color]
"Listen. I wanna know if you're gonna go all.. you know..."
"All what?" challenged Laurel, put out by the implication, "I know what?"[/font]
Leanne sighed. "Saikomsoma. Yeah? They're exactly the kind you can get all... that way about. All alpha monster."
The pangs were lesser when Leanne did it - at least she could freely articulate to Laurel what she meant by the sentiment - but they were still there. "No, babe," she asserted, "No no no. That's not why we're there. Vertigo's about you an' me an' Dynamic Duos. That's all."
"Okay. I ain't doubtin' you. I just needed to hear it from you. After Whisper, an' after... y'know... Iestyn."
The name echoed around the room as coldly as if the walls had frozen over. Matty coughed once, doing a bad job of making it seem natural, and stood up. "Gonna wash this brush now," he mumbled awkwardly, and walked out of the room at a pace just short of a dash.
Laurel watched him go with conflict in her irises, then sighed as she turned back to Leanne, who had her head bowed. "Iestyn's in the past now," hissed Laurel. "We don't need to hear that name again."
Leanne rasped, "I know, I just... I'm still..."
"I know, but please. Especially not around Matty."
And once again those thoughts shot back through Leanne that she'd been pushing down - that perhaps the bond between the Dragons was impossible to sever, but it sure was easy to twist these days, at least temporarily, with just one wrong sentiment.
Laurel, for her part, just swallowed. She'd been the one who'd...
It was all on her. Nobody else needed to talk about it.
She cleared her throat. "Listen, what you wanna do promo-wise? You gonna do a blog entry?"
Leanne pinched her nose as she tried to clear the dark clouds that had started to form in her mind. "I'll see. If I have time, if I have any inspiration. I ain't gonna force myself like I used to, though."
"Fair enough."
"What about you?"
Laurel shrugged as she leaned forward and started to make motions to stand up. "Yeah, I... got some ideas bouncin' around of stuff I'd like to say. I'll try to get 'em recorded tonight or tomorrow. If you want in, gimme a shout."
"Cheers. I will."
They both pushed themselves upright.
"Shall we?" asked Laurel, gesturing to the door.
"Sure thing," replied Leanne, picking her coat back up. She slung it over one arm... and as she turned back to Laurel, the Welshwoman flicked Leanne right between the eyebrows, making her squeak in shock and flap her hands. "Okay," she admitted, "That is annoying as shit. Fair enough."
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Sitting cross-legged on her bed, with vintage wrestling, fashion and music posters adorning the wall behind her, it's Laurel Anne Hardy! She winks and flashes a sideways peace sign. "What - the fuck - is UP FGA fans!? That's right, that's right ladies and gentlemen, the wait is over - Your Favourite Wrestler's Favourite Wrestler, the main event of space and time, Laurel Anne Hardy, is back on your screens! Back to light the beacon of beauty an' expression against the tyranny of drab sports nonsense an' the tedium of angry-faced people growling about how badly they're gonna fuck each other up." It's worth noting that she's got a sticking plaster on her forehead and, visible beneath her athletic top, a heat pad around her ribs.
"On the last Vertigo, I alluded to a statement I put out earlier in the year. For the benefit of anyone who missed that statement, the general gist of it was this: I'm done with competitive wrestling." As she spreads her hands out in a gesture of finality she pokes her tongue out an adds a "pptthh" noise. "I ain't sayin' I'm about to retire - those rumours are greatly exaggerated. I'm still here to dazzle the world; the quest to pioneer is the same in me as it always was. I just mean wins, losses, rankings, titles: fuck all that. I don't need it, I never did, and I'm done playing along with the rest of the industry. Even that very thin veneer I used to put out, that grudging pretence that things like win percentages or days-spent-as-champion as measures of worth remotely apply to me. I've moved past it." Shrug.
"One thing pioneerin' does not mean is bein' the person who's the most championy - who's won the most titles. That ain't doin' anything new. It's just doin' somethin' old, but better - or more at least. And you all know I've never been one to shy away from excess, an' believe me, I've won a lot of titles in my six and a half years as a professional wrestler. I... forget, to be honest, all the shit I've won. But I doubt I'm high on those all time lists, yeh? Compared to your Brad Jackson or your Terry Marvin or your John Pariah, I'm laggin' way, way behind even with my thirty-odd-ish championships. But the fact is... there's very little in terms of, y'know, accomplishments, that I A: haven't already won, or won something functionally the same, an' B: actually care about. I honestly don't give two shits whether or not I ever win the FGA World Championship. I've already won a singles world title. Two, technically. I mean not the same one, obviously, but let's be honest - one world title's not really that much different from another. Same shit, just with a different set of people tryna drown you in it. It's a different mountaintop in the same range. An' I guess that's the thing: to conquer another mountain would be to go sideways, an' there's only one direction Laurel Anne Hardy is interested in."
Just in case you weren't getting it, she points one finger upward.
"Now right now," she continues, "I bet some of you are thinking back to, ooh, about a year an' a half ago? Round the time of The Black Hand saga, not to mention the climax of the whole Gods & Monsters thing over in EXODUS. I ain't tryna whitewash the past, here. I know I handled a lot of things badly around that time. And I know that one of the big things around then was the fact that I set myself goals that I always just failed in, an' that was a huge part of that, the fact that I was always so close to the personal milestones I set myself but this thing was always a few days out of sync to that thematically related thing in another company, or I won in a different way to what I'd expected or wanted... I... don't need to be reminded that I went kinda crazy for a while around then."
Laurel lets out a quick breath, and her voice takes on a reflective tone. "The thing is,", she says, slowing down, "In the time since then, I've been able to do a lot of thinking. A lot of taking the things I'd learned about myself up to then an' applying them, or workin' on them. If anyone thinks me quitting last year was me goin' crazy again? That was me waking up. It was an act of self-liberation. Why should I stay in a bad situation that's risking my friendships, and that my involvement in is making it worse for everyone, all for a stupid pissing contest I could not. Care. Less about? It's ridiculous, an' it's not benefitting anyone. So I'm done with the pissing contests. I'm done with how I used to be, complaining about them but still taking part in them. I mean, I've said in the past I'd like to be in Rey del Aire, an' I'm hyped that FGA are gonna bring it back this year. I'd definitely like to be in it. It looks fun as shit. But it's not like if I'm not, or if I am but I lose, it'll cost me any sleep. I got bigger hills to climb these days."
She pauses, smirking knowingly.
"So what makes Dynamic Duos different? Why is that - like I said in that statement, an' explained on the last Vertigo - the one exception to all of this? Why is that the one accolade I haven't won and do care so much about?"
Laurel tilts her head, then says, "I guess I ought to explain what tag team wrestling means to me. See... when I say wrestling is art, that ain't just shapes an' colours. It's expression. My matches are emotional outpourings. Journeys. I guess there's always been the dichotomy, right? How come someone with an "easy come, easy go, whatever" attitude to titles is so decorated in the field of tag team wrestling? I know this part of my own, fuckin', Wikipedia entry. Four tag titles with Evangelista, four with Allison Lorraine, two with Annie Zellor. One tournament win, with Allison an' Jessica Lasiewciz. Two tag team of the year awards with Evangelista. Well... the thing about bein' in a tag team is it's an expression of the bond between you. It's all about love. An' tag team success, at its core, is about helpin' someone else to accolades. Do most of them mean that much to me? Not in their own right. But they do to Annie, to Allison, to Evangelista, an' that in turn gives them meaning to me. They become a symbol of the bond."
She sniffs, then laughs quietly and mirthlessly. "I defy anyone to look me in the eyes an' tell me with a straight face that in the first half of 2013 at the very least Dragons Unleashed weren't the single best tag team on planet Earth. The first real stumbling point we had then was... you guessed it. Dynamic Duos 2013. I suppose it wasn't helped by it being to Dom Harter, who was a massive turdsqueeze, an' Malcolm Drake, the fuckin' Madonna of turdsqueezes. But more than that, it was the first time the bond faltered. I wasn't there to break it up when Dom got Evangelista singled out. I was off brawlin' with Drake. For whatever reason - call it the punctum - it stuck with me. We lost other tournaments; we lost titles. Whatever. I'm over all of that now. But Dynamic Duos... especially the next year, with Annie, makin' the final again. It's the fucking albatross, man. It's..."
She swallows.
"Is it proof that the bond is real? Yes and no. I mean, it's there, either way. But the... the simpatico, I guess? Dynamic Duos has become this statuesque monument to all of the reasons tag team wrestling is so important to me. Which... Erin... Sara... brings me to you."
She narrows her eyes.
"I watched your match against MagiCastle. I saw your video against them. Lemme tell ya... this time last year I'd have fucking carbonised you. Have you seen the things I've done? Go ask Mr Rottentreats why he wears an eyepatch these days. But you know what... I don't care anymore. I'll beat the shit out of you, but it ain't personal. I got nothing to prove. I ain't out for revenge for you knockin' my mate Salem out of the tournament. Maybe I'm just an old romantic. Maybe I just need this one scrap of the old me. But when me an' Evangelista beat you at Vertigo, there'll be no malice. You ain't worth that. You're just a step on the way to finally... after so many long years and so many agonisingly close falls... finally becoming Dynamic Duos winner."
She paused for just a second to check her breathing and collect her thoughts. She knew her tendency to get flustered and stumble on her words.
"It's a big way to come back, I get that. Especially si..uh." She'd been about to say, "Especially since I missed Gold Rush." But one of the attitude changes she'd been attempting to make in her life was to frame things positively. They're not obstacles, they're opportunities! That sort of thing. That kind of carpe diem "dream as though you'll live forever, live as though you'll die tomorrow" attitude was something she'd always dismissed as being for posh, smug people, people who had au pairs and who ordered the kinds of kitchen gadgets the chunky mail order catalogues described as "handsome" or "indispensable" that she couldn't even understand the use of, and people with their shit just generally more together than her. It was hard - she had to correct herself constantly - but if that kind of thinking was what the people with their shit together did, and she wanted to have her shit together, then she ought to think like that too.
Right?
Leanne cleared her throat and tried again.
"Dynamic Duos is a big tournament. In terms of hype and, like, outside eyes on the company an' that, it's probably the biggest annual event FGA runs. One of the biggest cross-promotional things anyone runs. Even if I'm not looking to go back into the tag division full time, this is good way to hopefully remind people of who I am." The sense of positivity she was fighting herself to cultivate nudged her, and she added with only the slightest hint of embarrassment, "What I can do."
John wasn't a wrestling fan, and he knew little about the sport outside of what Leanne brought up every week, but from the corner of her eye she saw him nod understandingly. He was a total lifesaver. Being able to spill out her thoughts like this to someone detached and sympathetic, in this relaxed but professional atmosphere, helped her get a handle on how she felt about her feelings herself.
"And show that you're not the same person you were this time last year?"
Leanne smiled. "Exactly. Exactly that, John. Thanks."
It felt strange to call him by his first name; she was paying him after all, and she felt like that conferred some kind of authority onto him. Jay had told her that was crazy - if anything, he'd argued, the fact she was paying gave her the position of authority over him - but she just couldn't reconcile herself to that idea yet. He felt too much like a teacher.
It had taken a long, long time to take this step, and it was scary as hell. She'd had to take Matty with her when she went to register for the sessions just to stop her from freaking out or getting cold feet and leaving again as soon as she set foot through the door. She'd forced herself though, and this was the upshot: a weekly measure of her progress in tangible terms. If she could take that step, she could take the subsequent ones. She'd proven to herself that she really could make the life changes she needed to make, and with them, slowly but surely, were coming the changes in outlook too.
"Will your boyfriend be there?"
"I hope so," she murmured, "I mean, he wrestles in Japan a lot these days, and this thing's in the USA. But I really hope he can be there. Especially for the final, if Laurel and I can make that. It would make it so special for him to be there at ringside." She glanced around. "I mean... even something like this, right now. I wouldn't even be sitting here with you it wasn't for Smurf."
He didn't ask about the unusual name. In one of their first sessions together, he'd asked her what Kickass Smurf's real name was, and she'd been firm that she neither could nor would tell him. Even that felt like progress to her; she felt pleased with herself that she'd been able to recognise when it was appropriate to say "no" to someone she perceived as an authority figure. She hadn't betrayed her boyfriend's confidence, and she wasn't agonising over the decision. It was exactly the kind of situation which would have frozen the old Leanne Evangelista, and she'd managed to deal with it fairly easily.
"Well," chuckled John, "I'm glad he encouraged you to do this."
Leanne blushed. "He didn't. I just... want to be... he makes me want to be a better person, you know? Does that sound stupid? I bet that sounds stupid."
"Not at all. You should see what I was like before I met my wife."
With a laugh, Leanne asked, "Oh yeah? How come?"
"I'll tell you... but later. For now you're going to tackle the box junction at the bottom of Station Road."
"What? I'm not ready!" exclaimed Leanne, almost slamming on the brakes. If the street they were on had been quieter she might have done just that.
"How many weeks have you been saying that for?"
She slapped one palm against the steering wheel in agitation. "I know, I know, but it's so busy... we're just about comin' up to the start of rush hour... what if I stall when I'm halfway across?"
John cleared his throat. "Leanne... are you serious about learning to drive?"
She turned sideways to stare at him for just a moment. Of course she was serious; learning to drive was something she should have done years ago. If she could so this, she'd be independent in a whole new way. No more relying on Jay or taxis to ferry her everywhere. And yet... the Station Road junction was such a massive step. Yes, she wanted to push herself. Yes, she wanted to be able to leave her comfort zone. But something that scary...
She pictured Kickass.
Dammit.
"...yes," she said, trepidatiously but firmly, "Yes. I'm serious. Fuck it. Let's do it."
------------------------------------
The soles of her feet, sticky with blood and dirt and ice cream, curled around the top rope like talons as she hunkered down.
The images in her eyes blurred and flickered like worn filmstrip but she could still clearly enough see Whisper tugging desperately at the barbed wire. Between his shredded hands and all the blood he'd lost and the awkward angle he was at, The Architect was having trouble pulling his leg free from the twisted length of guardrail she'd lashed it to. His body was mottled with bruises and streaked with blood; the makeshift bandage on his hand was only half-on by this point, and a glint told her he still had some glass lodged in his palm. On an intellectual level she was aware her injuries were almost as bad as his, and she knew she'd pay the price for all of this soon enough, but she couldn't feel them. The crimson mask she was wearing was pure energy, pulsing and radiating in totemic battle spirit.
Her gaze flicked past Whisper to his manager for the evening, who was trying to surface from the murky ocean of unconsciousness. His hands scrabbled for the ropes as he pushed his shoulderblades back against the bottom turnbuckle pad. The contractions of his chest were irregular. So was the blinking of his eyelids. Maybe that sheerdrop powerbomb lungblower she'd given him would make him think twice about interfering in her business again - for a couple of shows at least, if she should be so lucky.
Richard. Fucking. Maxwell. Was he the architect of all this? Of the beatdowns, of the mind games, of the war on XWA's very existence waged by the mysterious "Survivors" and vanguarded by Alice Harris's Catastrophe? Surely not. Maxwell was a snake, not a lion. Whatever the bigger picture here was, he was a lieutenant, a public face for a more diabolical manipulator with grander designs than chaos or closure. But he could still limp back to the Survivors' bunker with a message. And that was more than Whisper would be able to do.
Her eyes swung back to the inhuman machine known as The Architect of All War. The Rebus Hivemind. The man who'd ended more careers than anyone in XWA Battlezone history. The man who'd terrorised XWA's wrestlers, staff and fans more than anyone else in the company's 16-plus years.
They wanted war?
They'd get their goddamn war.
She did the only thing that felt appropriate under the circumstances: she blew Maxwell a kiss. And then she jumped.
The soles of her feet, sticky with blood and dirt and ice cream, sank into the warming geyser that erupted from around Whisper's patella as her heels drove it through the ligaments of his knee. For a fanciful moment, she felt his strength - his renowned sadism, his overwhelming rage that betrayed his name - soak through her skin and into her own bloodstream.
The sound of bone snapping rang in her ears as a gunshot.
There. They had their goddamn war.
--------------------------
Laurel grunted impatiently as she stabbed the touchpad on her laptop again and again.
"C'mon, you bastard, load."
Laurel Yunokawa - a.k.a Laurel Guerra, a.k.a. Saiko Yunokawa, a.k.a. Saikosoma, a.k.a Laurel Anne Hardy - was still not the strongest reader, despite the fact she'd learn to read English properly a whole seven years ago. Before that she'd just had odd words - storefronts, street signs, the kind of thing you pick up as a stranger in a strange land. She'd grown up an alien in her own country with no need to interact with the written word. Only upon trying to sign with a real wrestling school had she realised that reading and writing did actually matter when it came to existing as a real person in the real world. And so - despite not being particularly great at English herself, as evidenced by the C she got at GCSE - Leanne had taught her. It had been slow and there had been many arguments but they gradually got there, and nowadays Laurel could proudly call herself literate - even if she still had to trace her finger under words and read them aloud sometimes.
Laurel refreshed again, and there at last was the update.
She slowly read the clickbait headline over and over.
Top XWA wrestler's injury career threatening?
She closed her eyes for a moment, then blinked and clicked through. Laurel scanned her eyes up and down the page, picking out words and clauses to get a general impression of the news story.
...suffered by Whisper, the leader of the faction Whisper's War, at the climax of XWA's recent "Once Upon a Time in Mexico" event between himself and former Supreme XWA Champion Laurel Anne Hardy.
...confirm that the move not only dislocated his kneecap but tore tendons and muscle...
...fractures...
...backstage sources...
...current feeling among XWA's medical officials...
...Whisper is unlikely to ever wrestle again. A source within the company adds that there is a strong chance he may even be unable to ever walk again.
She rubbed her chin as she scanned the dirtsheet article over and over, until she was positive she understood it all correctly. Then she sank back against the couch, trying to work out what - if anything - she felt about all this.
"You alright?"
She looked over at her brother, who had a pair of his ring shorts spread out on the coffee table and was painting a Welsh flag on the leg. "Hm?"
"You made a weird noise."
"Really?" This was news to her.
"Yeah. Like... kind of angry, but kinda worried."
"Oh."
Matty set down his brush. "Bad news?" he asked, pointing to the computer.
She shoved it to the other end of the sofa. "Not for me."
"Cryptic."
"Eh," she sighed. She saw what he was trying to do. God, he was so transparent. But... weird as it would be for her to tell him as much... she was grateful for his concern. "Just the thing with Whisper."
"Obviously," he replied, deadpan. "How you feelin' about it now? I mean... I know you kinda didn't like how much everyone on Twitter was askin' if you were alright, but..."
"Noooo," cut in Laurel emphatically, "It ain't like I'm mad at them for worryin' about me. Just, y'know, Whisper's prolly got his career ended now, an' everyone's checkin' on me instead of him like I'm, like I'm..." She paused, trying to find the words.
"Like you're the victim?" suggested Matty.
Laurel scowled momentarily as she let out a "Hah. No... like they're worried I'm about to flip. Like I'm gonna go all... Saikosoma."
"I guess it just shows how hated Whisper was," said Matty, "That even when you snap his leg nobody feels any sympathy for him."
"Maybe? I dunno. I feel like everyone's watching me though."
"Laurel," said Matty evenly, "You knew full well when you broke a guy's leg live on camera you'd get people watching you. Since when have you not loved everyone watching you, anyway?"
Laurel shook her head. "Not that kinda watching. Watching like... they expect me to escalate it. All the nervous jokes. People thinkin' this one match means that part of me is gonna be the full time me goin' forward." She grimaced. "Is that what I am?"
Matty was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "Would you still do it if you could go back in time?"
His half-sister took some time over her own reply, but after a few seconds she simply said, "Does it matter? It happened. It is what it is."
"So you don't know how you feel about it?"
Laurel lay down across the arm of the couch, staring into space. "I don't feel anything about it. If anything bothers me, it's that. Or at least the expectation that I should feel something. Right now I've got no more feelings about Whisper than I have about, I don't know, the neighbour's car," she said, gesturing out the window, then pointed across the room and said, "Or that lamp. Though actually," she added after a pause, "I have quite strong feelings about that lamp. Doesn't fuckin' work there for a start, not against the plain wallpaper. But you know what I mean though? Maybe I'll feel different about it in time but right now this whole thing with Whisper doesn't mean anything more to me than what I had for tea last night, or fuck it, the dump I took this morning."
"I think technically last night's tea an' this morning's dump are the same thing..."
"Kay, fair point. Bad analogy."
The Guerra siblings both feel silent for a moment, she trying to find a suitable comparison to clarify what she meant and he working out how to phrase asking whether she honestly expected Whisper's allies - Richard J. Maxwell, Alice Harris et al - to take Laurel shelving him lying down. But the sound of the front door interrupted their respective trains of thought, and a voice called through, "Hello?"
"Hey! We're in here."
"Who's we?" asked Leanne's voice, and a moment later, she appeared around the door to the hall, still wearing her coat despite the bright sunshine outside. She nodded as she took in the living room's two occupants.
"I think Lily's asleep," Matty informed her, "Everyone else is out."
"Fair enough," replied Leanne as she shrugged her jacket off and tossed it over the back of an armchair. As she sat down, she asked brightly, "Guess who drove the junction at the bottom of Station Road for the first time today?"
"Oh, that's great! Well done," exclaimed Matty.
"Yeah, way to go, babe," chipped in Laurel, "Proud of you."
"How many accidents you cause?"
"Not many. Just a couple of pile-ups." Leanne's fingers clenched and unclenched. "God, I'm wired now. I wanna do something. Hey," she nodded in Laurel's direction, "What you doin' this afternoon, Ell? We should go get some more trainin' in for our big Vertigo comeback."
Tsking, Matty chided, "Don't you overdo it. You don't wanna miss a second event."
Leanne nodded and conceded, "I know, I know... trust me, with how much it hurt not to be able to be in Gold Rush, especially seein' those two assholes win it... I ain't gonna let that happen here. I just got to burn off some energy is all," she said, looking over meaningfully in her tag team partner's direction.
"Uuuh," groaned Laurel, rolling upright, "I could train. Just... lemme get some painkillers in me first."
Leanne sucked in her cheeks. "Are you still really hurt?"
"I'll be fine."[/color]
But Leanne squinted at her nervously. "You can't blame me for being concerned. You got stapled in the face, Ell..."
Laurel glanced to Matty for a second before replying with, "Well? Not like they're still in there, are they?"
Leanne shook her head. "I know, just... I know better than anyone now what happens when you try to rush back after getting hurt. I don't want you to throw yourself into things until you're ready again."
Laurel sat up and planted a foot on the carpet. "No. This is too important. Dynamic Duos is too important. Anyway, listen, I'll be fine by Saturday."[/color]
"Okay but just... don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."
"I know. Thanks, Ell."[/color]
"Especially since you were the one pushing so hard for us to enter this together in the first place."
"I know. I'm fine. I'll be fine,"[/color] repeated Laurel, and her tone made it clear that she knew that she was protesting too much.
With a slight smirk, Leanne suddenly stretched across the table and flicked the band-aid stuck to Laurel's forehead. Laurel yelped out an "AAH!" as she flapped her arms to bat Leanne's hand away.
"So it doesn't hurt, huh?" deadpanned Leanne.
"No," replied Laurel testily, "It doesn't hurt, it's just annoying as shit."
Leanne folded her arms as she sat back. "Remember what I said. I want you to prove me wrong about this bein' a bad idea."
"It's not,"[/color] insisted Laurel, "We've still got it. I promise. This is our year. An' I will come train this afternoon. See how good all the old moves've been when we've been training? They're gonna get even better. Dragons two point oh."[/color]
Leanne nodded as she took in Laurel's assertions, then slowly asked, "Have you seen our opponents? Sara Mason and Erin... whatever the hell her last name is?"
"Wha'bout 'em?"[/color]
"Listen. I wanna know if you're gonna go all.. you know..."
"All what?" challenged Laurel, put out by the implication, "I know what?"[/font]
Leanne sighed. "Saikomsoma. Yeah? They're exactly the kind you can get all... that way about. All alpha monster."
The pangs were lesser when Leanne did it - at least she could freely articulate to Laurel what she meant by the sentiment - but they were still there. "No, babe," she asserted, "No no no. That's not why we're there. Vertigo's about you an' me an' Dynamic Duos. That's all."
"Okay. I ain't doubtin' you. I just needed to hear it from you. After Whisper, an' after... y'know... Iestyn."
The name echoed around the room as coldly as if the walls had frozen over. Matty coughed once, doing a bad job of making it seem natural, and stood up. "Gonna wash this brush now," he mumbled awkwardly, and walked out of the room at a pace just short of a dash.
Laurel watched him go with conflict in her irises, then sighed as she turned back to Leanne, who had her head bowed. "Iestyn's in the past now," hissed Laurel. "We don't need to hear that name again."
Leanne rasped, "I know, I just... I'm still..."
"I know, but please. Especially not around Matty."
And once again those thoughts shot back through Leanne that she'd been pushing down - that perhaps the bond between the Dragons was impossible to sever, but it sure was easy to twist these days, at least temporarily, with just one wrong sentiment.
Laurel, for her part, just swallowed. She'd been the one who'd...
It was all on her. Nobody else needed to talk about it.
She cleared her throat. "Listen, what you wanna do promo-wise? You gonna do a blog entry?"
Leanne pinched her nose as she tried to clear the dark clouds that had started to form in her mind. "I'll see. If I have time, if I have any inspiration. I ain't gonna force myself like I used to, though."
"Fair enough."
"What about you?"
Laurel shrugged as she leaned forward and started to make motions to stand up. "Yeah, I... got some ideas bouncin' around of stuff I'd like to say. I'll try to get 'em recorded tonight or tomorrow. If you want in, gimme a shout."
"Cheers. I will."
They both pushed themselves upright.
"Shall we?" asked Laurel, gesturing to the door.
"Sure thing," replied Leanne, picking her coat back up. She slung it over one arm... and as she turned back to Laurel, the Welshwoman flicked Leanne right between the eyebrows, making her squeak in shock and flap her hands. "Okay," she admitted, "That is annoying as shit. Fair enough."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sitting cross-legged on her bed, with vintage wrestling, fashion and music posters adorning the wall behind her, it's Laurel Anne Hardy! She winks and flashes a sideways peace sign. "What - the fuck - is UP FGA fans!? That's right, that's right ladies and gentlemen, the wait is over - Your Favourite Wrestler's Favourite Wrestler, the main event of space and time, Laurel Anne Hardy, is back on your screens! Back to light the beacon of beauty an' expression against the tyranny of drab sports nonsense an' the tedium of angry-faced people growling about how badly they're gonna fuck each other up." It's worth noting that she's got a sticking plaster on her forehead and, visible beneath her athletic top, a heat pad around her ribs.
"On the last Vertigo, I alluded to a statement I put out earlier in the year. For the benefit of anyone who missed that statement, the general gist of it was this: I'm done with competitive wrestling." As she spreads her hands out in a gesture of finality she pokes her tongue out an adds a "pptthh" noise. "I ain't sayin' I'm about to retire - those rumours are greatly exaggerated. I'm still here to dazzle the world; the quest to pioneer is the same in me as it always was. I just mean wins, losses, rankings, titles: fuck all that. I don't need it, I never did, and I'm done playing along with the rest of the industry. Even that very thin veneer I used to put out, that grudging pretence that things like win percentages or days-spent-as-champion as measures of worth remotely apply to me. I've moved past it." Shrug.
"One thing pioneerin' does not mean is bein' the person who's the most championy - who's won the most titles. That ain't doin' anything new. It's just doin' somethin' old, but better - or more at least. And you all know I've never been one to shy away from excess, an' believe me, I've won a lot of titles in my six and a half years as a professional wrestler. I... forget, to be honest, all the shit I've won. But I doubt I'm high on those all time lists, yeh? Compared to your Brad Jackson or your Terry Marvin or your John Pariah, I'm laggin' way, way behind even with my thirty-odd-ish championships. But the fact is... there's very little in terms of, y'know, accomplishments, that I A: haven't already won, or won something functionally the same, an' B: actually care about. I honestly don't give two shits whether or not I ever win the FGA World Championship. I've already won a singles world title. Two, technically. I mean not the same one, obviously, but let's be honest - one world title's not really that much different from another. Same shit, just with a different set of people tryna drown you in it. It's a different mountaintop in the same range. An' I guess that's the thing: to conquer another mountain would be to go sideways, an' there's only one direction Laurel Anne Hardy is interested in."
Just in case you weren't getting it, she points one finger upward.
"Now right now," she continues, "I bet some of you are thinking back to, ooh, about a year an' a half ago? Round the time of The Black Hand saga, not to mention the climax of the whole Gods & Monsters thing over in EXODUS. I ain't tryna whitewash the past, here. I know I handled a lot of things badly around that time. And I know that one of the big things around then was the fact that I set myself goals that I always just failed in, an' that was a huge part of that, the fact that I was always so close to the personal milestones I set myself but this thing was always a few days out of sync to that thematically related thing in another company, or I won in a different way to what I'd expected or wanted... I... don't need to be reminded that I went kinda crazy for a while around then."
Laurel lets out a quick breath, and her voice takes on a reflective tone. "The thing is,", she says, slowing down, "In the time since then, I've been able to do a lot of thinking. A lot of taking the things I'd learned about myself up to then an' applying them, or workin' on them. If anyone thinks me quitting last year was me goin' crazy again? That was me waking up. It was an act of self-liberation. Why should I stay in a bad situation that's risking my friendships, and that my involvement in is making it worse for everyone, all for a stupid pissing contest I could not. Care. Less about? It's ridiculous, an' it's not benefitting anyone. So I'm done with the pissing contests. I'm done with how I used to be, complaining about them but still taking part in them. I mean, I've said in the past I'd like to be in Rey del Aire, an' I'm hyped that FGA are gonna bring it back this year. I'd definitely like to be in it. It looks fun as shit. But it's not like if I'm not, or if I am but I lose, it'll cost me any sleep. I got bigger hills to climb these days."
She pauses, smirking knowingly.
"So what makes Dynamic Duos different? Why is that - like I said in that statement, an' explained on the last Vertigo - the one exception to all of this? Why is that the one accolade I haven't won and do care so much about?"
Laurel tilts her head, then says, "I guess I ought to explain what tag team wrestling means to me. See... when I say wrestling is art, that ain't just shapes an' colours. It's expression. My matches are emotional outpourings. Journeys. I guess there's always been the dichotomy, right? How come someone with an "easy come, easy go, whatever" attitude to titles is so decorated in the field of tag team wrestling? I know this part of my own, fuckin', Wikipedia entry. Four tag titles with Evangelista, four with Allison Lorraine, two with Annie Zellor. One tournament win, with Allison an' Jessica Lasiewciz. Two tag team of the year awards with Evangelista. Well... the thing about bein' in a tag team is it's an expression of the bond between you. It's all about love. An' tag team success, at its core, is about helpin' someone else to accolades. Do most of them mean that much to me? Not in their own right. But they do to Annie, to Allison, to Evangelista, an' that in turn gives them meaning to me. They become a symbol of the bond."
She sniffs, then laughs quietly and mirthlessly. "I defy anyone to look me in the eyes an' tell me with a straight face that in the first half of 2013 at the very least Dragons Unleashed weren't the single best tag team on planet Earth. The first real stumbling point we had then was... you guessed it. Dynamic Duos 2013. I suppose it wasn't helped by it being to Dom Harter, who was a massive turdsqueeze, an' Malcolm Drake, the fuckin' Madonna of turdsqueezes. But more than that, it was the first time the bond faltered. I wasn't there to break it up when Dom got Evangelista singled out. I was off brawlin' with Drake. For whatever reason - call it the punctum - it stuck with me. We lost other tournaments; we lost titles. Whatever. I'm over all of that now. But Dynamic Duos... especially the next year, with Annie, makin' the final again. It's the fucking albatross, man. It's..."
She swallows.
"Is it proof that the bond is real? Yes and no. I mean, it's there, either way. But the... the simpatico, I guess? Dynamic Duos has become this statuesque monument to all of the reasons tag team wrestling is so important to me. Which... Erin... Sara... brings me to you."
She narrows her eyes.
"I watched your match against MagiCastle. I saw your video against them. Lemme tell ya... this time last year I'd have fucking carbonised you. Have you seen the things I've done? Go ask Mr Rottentreats why he wears an eyepatch these days. But you know what... I don't care anymore. I'll beat the shit out of you, but it ain't personal. I got nothing to prove. I ain't out for revenge for you knockin' my mate Salem out of the tournament. Maybe I'm just an old romantic. Maybe I just need this one scrap of the old me. But when me an' Evangelista beat you at Vertigo, there'll be no malice. You ain't worth that. You're just a step on the way to finally... after so many long years and so many agonisingly close falls... finally becoming Dynamic Duos winner."